


Antibodies

by EyeInTheDark



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Between Episodes, Canon, F/M, Gap Filler, Gen, Hinted Daryl/OFC, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sick Daryl, Sickfic, Spoilers for Season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-02-24 10:44:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2578724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EyeInTheDark/pseuds/EyeInTheDark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on the road, Daryl falls violently ill, and it's up to Cheyenne(OFC) and Beth to nurse him back to health</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of a gap filler for the back 8 of season 4. Set between 4x12 "Still" and 4x13 "Alone". The change in clothing suggests (in my opinion) that it's been weeks/months(?) between episodes. Just my opinion.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead or any of it's characters. All I own here is the plot and the OFC :)

* * *

 

The rain came pouring down on the hunter in torrents, soaking him to the skin within minutes. It was cold, his breath misting on every exhale as he made his way through the darkening woods toward the house he and his two charges had secured. They were most likely waiting for him at the door by now, and he couldn't help the weary smile that crept over his rugged features at the thought.

Daryl Dixon may never admit it, but he actually liked the feeling of being needed. Wanted. Missed when he was away. Both Cheyenne and Beth worried every time he left them alone since the prison went down in flames. Beth was more straight forward with her fears for him, but deep down, he knew Cheyenne felt the same.

Before he could leave, she would always say, voice soft and full of concern, "Be careful, Daryl," her eyes locking with his for a moment to get her point across.

He knew. He wasn't stupid.

It was dark when he finally made it back, and almost the moment he rapped lightly on the front door of their little house, Beth was there, flinging it open with a wide smile, knowing that the tapping meant it was nothing but him.

"Oh, my gosh! Daryl! You're soaked!"

"No kidding," he grumbled sarcasticly, handing her the string of squirrels he had managed to rustle up and peeling his jacket and vest off, tossing the waterlogged items on the floor by the door carelessly.

Cheyenne appeared a moment later with a t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants in hand, the only mens clothing items left in the house, adding a towel to the stack.

"Here," she handed him the dry clothes and the towel, picking up his wet jacket and vest. "Go get out of those wet things before you get too chilled. I'll hang 'em up t' dry when you're done."

"Yes, mother," he mumbled teasingly with a little smirk when she made a swatting motion at his butt as he passed her, heading for the nearest bedroom.

"Get goin'!"

Less than fifteen minutes later, Daryl was in the living room in front of the fireplace, wrapped up in a quilt -via Cheyenne playing mama again- and trying to hide the fact that he was still cold and shivering.

Beth and Cheyenne had moved the couch in front of the hearth for him, and he was grateful for it. He didn't want to admit it, but he was freezing, his throat was a bit scratchy and he felt as if he could fall asleep standing up.

"Hungry?" Cheyenne asked as she and Beth came into the living room, each carrying a bowl of steaming chicken noodle soup. Luckily, they had found a small, single burner camp stove in one of the closests with a little gas left in it, enabling them to heat their meager meals for the past three days without having to make do with just the fireplace.

He shook his head, refusing the bowl Cheyenne offered to share with him. There wasn't much in a can of Campbell's soup, definitly not enough for three to eat and be content with, but at least it was something.

Still, he just wasn't hungry.

"Naw...you go ahead..."

"You feelin' alright?" Cheyenne asked, eyeing him carefully, as if she suspected a lie.

" 'm fine..." he fibbed, also trying to convince himself he was okay. He just needed some sleep. "Jus' tired."

She said nothing, but he could tell by the look on her face that she wasn't at all pleased with him not eating. She was worrying about him again to be sure.

He didn't really care at the moment. He was too exhausted.

Snuggling down into his quilt, Daryl rested his head on the arm of the couch, hoping the girls would be quiet and not bother him.

Almost before he could close his tired eyes, Daryl was falling fast asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those of you who are Reedus-addicts like myself and who might be wondering: Yes. I know Norman was in a German film called "Antibodies" :) . The name came to mind, and it fit the fic. So, yeah. Anywhooo!! Onward with chapter two!! Hope you enjoy!!

The next morning, Daryl awoke feeling worse than he had the night before. His throat felt raw, and he could vaguely hear himself wheezing when he took in deep breaths.

With a quiet groan, he sat up, goosebumps immediately appearing on his arms as he pushed the blanket back and stood up.

Every inch of his body ached, his muscles throbbing dully as he moved into one of the un-occupied bedrooms and got dressed.

Thankfully, his clothes were dry.

Picking up his crossbow, he headed to the front door, trying to stifle the dry, rattling cough that suddenly overtook him as he opened the door quietly, hoping not to disturb the girls.

"Where you goin'?" Cheyenne asked from the living room doorway, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

"Need t' check the perimeter," he managed to choke out, trying to sound as normal as possible.

"I'll come with you," Cheyenne offered, already pulling her jacket on and picking up her compound bow.

Daryl wanted to protest, but he just didn't have the strength to argue with her. He was so tired, and his head and throat _hurt._

"Whatever..." he shrugged defeatedly.

A few moments later, the pair were making their way around the perimeter of the house, slipping ten to fifteen yards away into the woods for good measure.

"You feelin' okay, Daryl?" Cheyenne asked when they met up again, catching the hunter leaning heavily against a tree and looking very much like he was about to be sick.

" 'm fine..." Daryl grunted, the cough coming back to slap him in the face for lying.

"You don't look or sound it," Cheyenne said, looking a mixture of worried and annoyed. "Cut the crap, Daryl. What's wrong?"

"Nothin'!" the hunter snarled, giving the blonde a miserable looking glare. "Jus' leave me be!"

"Can't do that," she said, planting her feet and looking as stubborn as ever. "C'mon, Daryl? You're sick, aren't you?"

"No," he growled through gritted teeth, trying to give the blonde his nastiest glare. And failing miserably. "Jus' go back t' the house...I'll be in directly."

"But---" she tried to protest, but he quickly cut her off.

"What? You think you need t' watch me take a piss? Geez, woman! Can't a man have a little privacy?!"

Without another word, Cheyenne sighed in exasperation and stomped off in the direction of the house and Daryl finally got the alone time he wanted.

Leaning back against the tree, Daryl inhaled deeply through his nose, hoping the sudden wave of nausea that now plagued him would go away.

He felt dizzy, his vision blurring slightly and seeming to tilt the world dangerously to the left. It made him feel even more nauseous, and the next thing he knew, he was crumpling to the frostbitten ground on his hands and knees, gagging uncontrollably.

It hurt. Everything hurt. His stomach, his head and his sore throat burned and throbbed with every dry heave that racked his body, causing it to convulse uncontrollably. He was cold, then he was hot, trembling from head to foot and feeling more miserable than he had upon waking up.

When he finally got his body under controll again, he slowly got to his feet, his legs feeling weak and shakey as he leaned against the tree again. Humiliating as it was, he found himself wishing he hadn't sent Cheyenne on her way.

As if she could read his mind, a few moments later, he heard a hesitant sounding voice call out to him as the blonde approached him, looking more worried than she had before.

"Are you okay?" she asked, concern strong in her tone.

"N-no..." he managed to stutter out, feeling ashamed and humiliated by having to admit he was far from okay. "I...I don't know..."

Cheyenne said nothing as his voice trailed off. Wordlessly, she moved closer to him and took his arm, speaking only after she had touched his sleeve. "C'mon...Let's get back to the house."

Without a word, he leaned against her, feeling embarrassed that he needed help walking the mere fifteen feet back to the house. But the fear nawing at his insides that if he didn't let her help him, he would almost definitely collapse overrode his shame.

Halfway there, his fears came to life as his knees suddenly buckled under his own weight and he went crashing to the ground face first, crossbow clattering to the frozen grass beside him as Cheyenne latched on to his arm a little tighter, trying to break his fall.

The nausea returned full force as the world tilted dangerously to the right again and little black spots danced across his blurring vision.

Cheyenne was there in an instant, on her knees beside him, pulling at his arm, forcing him up on his own knees as he leaned against her for support. "Oh, my gosh! You're burning up!"

An involuntary whimper escaped his throat as she tugged at him, trying to get him up.

"C'mon, Daryl! I can't lift you on my own!"

He tried to move. Honest he did. But his limbs just wouldn't seem to co-operate.

Everything seemed to be getting fuzzy, his hearing fading and warping the sound of Cheyenne's frightened voice as she cried out for Beth to come help her, and before Daryl knew what was happening, everything was fading to black as he passed out in Cheyenne's arms.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter. I really don't have any idea where this is going. I'm kinda just making it up as I go along.

When Daryl opened his eyes, he moaned softly. The room seemed to be spinning as Cheyenne's face came into his line of vision.

"Daryl? Hey, can you hear me?"

"Stop..." he muttered quietly, tossing his arm over his eyes, hiding his face from her in a feeble attempt to stop the bout of vertigo.

"It's okay, Daryl," Cheyenne soothed, and he felt a cool damp cloth against his forehead as he slowly lowered his arm, eyes remaining closed.

"...'m gonna be sick," he murmured, a pitiful little whimper escaping his raw throat as he moved to sit up.

"Beth," Cheyenne warned as the other girl came rushing in with a bucket.

She got there in the nick of time, Daryl fairly snatching it from her as she handed it to him. A moment later his body was jerking violently as he clung to the bucket, another bout of dry heaves wringing his stomach into knots as he doubled over, gagging uncontrollably.

Cheyenne stayed by his side, gently rubbing his back and murmuring soothingly to him. It was embarrassing, yet comforting all at the same time.

After what seemed like hours of the most painful dry heaves he thought he had ever experienced, they finally tapered off, and after a while, stopped completely.

With an exhausted groan, Daryl fell back against the couch cushions, breathing heavily as he looked up at the blonde next to him through fever-bright eyes.

"Open," she instructed, gesturing to his mouth with a thermometer in hand.

He gave her a disgusted look, but did as he was told, allowing her to slip the instrument between his lips and under his tongue.

After a few moments, it beeped obnoxiously, and she quickly withdrew it from his mouth, reading it carefully.

"101.1, Daryl," Cheyenne read aloud, giving him a pointed look.

He didn't reply. His eyes felt heavy, limbs weighted and uncooperative as he felt the soothing coolness of the washcloth against his forehead once again. He was just so tired and achey.

"Get some rest, Daryl," Cheyenne murmured quietly, sighing softly when he didn't respond. "I'll be right here..."

His eyes drooped closed after a few minutes, and he let the blonde bathe his face and neck with the cold washcloth without making a fuss. It felt so good on his burning skin, the tingly sensation from the fever seeming to disappear for a moment or two each time she placed the cloth against his skin.

Sleep. That was all he needed. It would all be better when he woke up.


	4. Chapter 4

Cheyenne's mind raced. Every possible sickness she had ever heard of flashing through her mind like lightning. The virus at the prison one of those thoughts. The last one, the worst one, was the Black Death, and she silently cursed herself for thinking of her stupid history class in that moment. Bubonic plague probably _wasn't_ the most logical way of thinking at the moment, and was most likely not even close to whatever Daryl was suffering from.

Still, it made her worry all the more as she unwillingly gave in and went through the facts and statistics in her mind. Beth was asleep, and there really wasn't any way of entertaining her troubled mind.

Daryl moaned in his fever sleep, and she gently pushed his shaggy fringe back from his closed eyes, biting her lip as she felt the searing heat radiating from his skin against her palm.

It had been hours since he had last been awake. And even then, it wasn't good.

He had woken up coughing violently, and after nearly an hour of the fit, he was coughing up blood. Once the cough finally subsided and he settled back down, his head lulling to one side, Cheyenne thought he would go back to sleep.

She bathed his face and neck with the washcloth and whispered comforting words to him, trying to bring his fever down in any way she could think of. They had no medication. Not even anything as simple as ibruprofen. It was pitiful.

At some point during the night, he woke again, and he called her mama.

At first, she thought he was awake and lucid, just teasing her, but upon further inspection, she realized that it was nothing more than the fever talking. His addled mind playing tricks on him in his delirious stupor.

She had tried to correct him, receiving nothing more than a distressed whine from the man as he flinched away from her slightly, wheezing as he took in a sharp breath.

"It's alright, Daryl," Cheyenne had soothed, bathing his face gently with the washcloth.

After a few tence minutes, he had calmed back down, curling up a little tighter on the couch and whimpering softly as she whispered to him.

"Please, God..." Cheyenne murmured into the darkness once Daryl had finally given in to his fever sleep and quieted completely. "Please...not him, too...Don't take him away...Please don't take him away..."

~*~

When Cheyenne awoke the next morning and there wasn't much change in Daryl's condition, she knew what she had to do.

"He needs medicine," Cheyenne explained when Beth woke up and came to the living room to check in on the blonde and their shared patient. "I need to make a run, Beth. Can you take care of him while I'm gone?"

"Where are you gonna go?" Beth asked, distraught.

"I found a map in the desk in the living room," Cheyenne explained patiently. "There's a town just a mile or so from here. I have to try, Beth."

"There's nothing else we can do?"

"No." Cheyenne shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid if we don't get something in him to help fight the fever soon, he'll either suffer brain damage or we'll lose him completely. And I'm not gonna let that happen."

Beth still looked frightened, but Cheyenne couldn't let emotions or fear get in her way. Without another word, she was out the door and walking in the direction of the town.


	5. Chapter 5

Daryl opened his eyes to find the world tilting dangerously to one side, a female form hovering over him as he blinked and tried to keep his eyes open.

"Daryl?" Beth asked, gently touching his arm. "Daryl? Is everything alright?"

He coughed, wincing as his throat burned. "Where's Cheyenne?..." he managed to grit out, slowly sitting up a little.

"She's not here."

"Where---is she?..."

"Out."

"Out where?"

Beth squirmed uncomfortably, the motion didn't go unnoticed by the hunter.

"You gonna answer me?"

"Daryl, you're still burnin' up," Beth tried to change the subject. "Just lay back and relax. She's fine."

"Where. Is. She."

Beth sighed, feeling defeated. "She went out to get you medicine."

"Medi---" before he could finish the word, he was coughing violently again, Beth holding a rag over his mouth to catch the blood coming up.

"Easy, Daryl!"

Gasping, Daryl flopped back on the couch, feeling a mixture of angry and worried. Why on earth would that stupid girl go out risking her life for him?

"When...when will she...be back?" he panted, worry overriding his anger.

"I don't know. She left this morning," Beth looked scared. "She's been gone an awful long time."

Groaning, Daryl rested his arm over his eyes, hoping Beth hadn't seen the tears he suddenly couldn't seem to hold back. He wanted Cheyenne, strange as it sounded.

With fear and worry twisting at his guts, making him feel nauseous as he tried to fall asleep, he kept silent, trying to ignore Beth humming softly to him.

~*~

Run. Don't look back. Run.

Cheyenne repeated those words in her mind over and over as she raced through the woods, heading in the direction of the house. Back to safety. Back to Daryl.

She hadn't been able to find anything very strong in the little pharmacy in town, it had been cleaned out. But there had been a little store on the corner that still held a few useful items. Ibuprofen being one of them. A herd had appeared before she had finished scavenging the store, seemingly out of nowhere, and she had been forced to run, forced to leave whatever was left in the store.

"Please don't let me be too late," Cheyenne murmured as she leaned against a tree for support. "Please..."

After a few moments of catching her breath, she started running again, not wanting to let the walkers chasing her catch up.

_Gotta get back...gotta get back..._


	6. Chapter 6

Darkness fell over the countryside, and Beth was beginning to worry more by the minute.

Daryl had become nearly inconsolable, delirious with worry and fever.

His fever had slowly crept up higher and higher. Nothing Beth did seemed to help.

"Cheyenne!" Daryl cried out, his eyes squeezed shut tight, some nightmare brought on by his sky-rocketing temperature the cause of the images behind his closed lids.

"Daryl, just calm down," Beth tried to soothe as the man fairly writhed on the couch. "It's gonna be okay. She'll be back any minute Daryl!"

The teen quickly threw her weight on the hunter's body as he tried to get up.

"Gotta go..." he muttered deliriously. "Gotta find...her..."

"No. Daryl! Lay still!" Beth tried once again to soothe him. "Please, Daryl!"

As the man fell back against the pillows once again, gasping for breath as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, Beth prayed. Prayed like she never had in all her life.

~*~

_Almost there. Almost there. Keep running. So close._

Cheyenne burst through the clearing, gasping for air. Bounding up the front steps, she hammered roughly on the door, yelling for Beth to open up.

"I got it!" she cried, triumphant and breathless, holding up her pack with the meds and some other supplies she had been able to round up the moment the door opened.

"C'mon! He's really bad off," Beth urged, pulling Cheyenne inside and locking the door behind them. "I couldn't get him to calm down! All he's done is ask for you. I was afraid he'd try to get up and leave or somethin'!"

"Daryl?" Cheyenne whispered, brushing his sweat-soaked hair back from his face as she knelt beside the couch. "Daryl, sweety?"

He whimpered in his sleep, fever dreams plaguing him relentlessly. Slowly, he stirred awake, eyes glassy and unfocused as he looked up at the two girls by his side.

"M-Mama?" Daryl murmured hesitantly, his addled brain playing tricks on him as his eyes landed on Cheyenne, eyelids appearing too heavy to keep open.

"No, Daryl," Cheyenne corrected gently, petting his damp hair with gentle fingers. "It's me. It's Cheyenne. Just relax. I brought you medicine. You'll feel better soon, okay?"

To Daryl, Cheyenne was not Cheyenne. Through the haze of his fever, he was sure he was seeing his mother, hearing Claire Dixon's soft voice soothing him.

"That's my sweet little boy," his mother beamed down at him, lifting him into her arms and snuggling him close as he wrapped his fingers in her long, blonde hair. "Mama's sweet little boy. You're my little ray of sunshine, aren't you Daryl, sweety?"

"Mama..." a sob caught in his throat as he wrapped his arms around Cheyenne, clinging to her as tightly as he could in his weakened state. Too exhausted to be ashamed of how childish and pathetic he was being.

"It's okay, Daryl," Cheyenne soothed, ignoring his fever induced ramblings as she rubbed his back gently. "I'm right here. You're alright...I'm right here..."

After a bit of coaxing, the blonde finally got him to swallow the medication, and a little while later, he was drifting off to sleep, lulled by Cheyenne gently rocking him in her arms.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for taking so long to update this :(

Cheyenne stayed awake throughout the entire night, never leaving Daryl's side for more than a minute and refusing to let Beth take her place on watch. She felt terrible about how Daryl had suffered while she was gone. She felt terrible for stressing Beth out. And even more so, she felt absolute heartbreak every time Daryl called her mama in his fever-induced stupor.

The medicine she had found seemed to be doing some good, he hadn't woken up for at least two hours, his breathing still rattling a bit, but the cough seemed to be lessening considerably.

When sunlight began streaming in through the boarded up windows, Cheyenne slowly got up from her place on the floor beside the couch, stretching her aching muscles before quietly making her way into the kitchen to get breakfast started.

Beth came out of one of the bedrooms fifteen minutes later, yawning as she entered the kitchen.

"How's Daryl? Did he have a rough night again?"

"He slept pretty much the whole night through," Cheyenne replied, handing the teen a bowl of rolled oats and a bottle of syrup.

Beth made a face at the bottle of syrup, looking at Cheyenne questioningly.

"We're out of sugar," Cheyenne explained patiently. "Trust me, it'll taste just as good. Maybe even better."

"Okay," Beth said hesitantly, taking the bowl and the bottle and sitting down at the kitchen table to start on her meager breakfast.

"Daryl?" Cheyenne asked softly upon re-entering the living room, gently pressing a cool palm to the hunter's forehead. "C'mon, Daryl, wake up. Time t' get some more meds into you."

He stirred awake slowly, looking up at her through almost clear eyes, the fever seeming to be mostly gone.

He groaned weakly, taking the bowl and gingerly sampling the contents before handing it back to her, shaking his head slightly.

"What?"

"...'m not hungry," he rasped weakly, closing his eyes. "I can't..."

"Can't you at least try? Maybe just a few bites?" Cheyenne pleaded.

"No..." he replied, voice barely above a whisper as he tossed his arm over his eyes, trying to hide his face from her. "I feel sick..."

"Alright," Cheyenne said patiently, feeling the need to comfort the distressed man. "It's okay, Daryl. You don't have to eat if you don't feel like you're up to it right now. But you do have to take this medicine."

He whimpered slightly, but didn't argue as the blonde helped him sit up enough to swallow the liquid without choking on it.

Once he was settled back against the pillows again, Daryl closed his tired eyes, sighing as the medicine slowly began to take affect. And before too long, he was out cold again, looking peaceful as Cheyenne layed her hand against his forehead again. He was still a bit feverish from what she could tell, but nothing that couldn't be dealt with.

"Did he eat?" Beth asked, coming into the living room to stand behind the couch, looking down at the sleeping hunter.

"No," Cheyenne shook her head wearily, taking the bowl with Daryl's uneaten share of breakfast and offering to split half of the bland contents with Beth. "He said he felt sick, but I did manage to get him to take some more medicine. That's a step in the right direction, I guess."

"Good," Beth sighed, drizzling syrup over the rolled oats. "This is actually better than with sugar! I'd never eaten it like this!"

"Told ya'," Cheyenne smirked, finishing her bowl. "I'm gonna check the perimeter, so watch him while I'm out. He's still got a little bit of a fever, so if ya' don't mind, find a washcloth or somethin' and bathe his face and neck a little, please?"

"Will do," Beth agreed, heading to the bathroom for the washcloth while Cheyenne got her coat on.

* * *

The morning air was crisp and fresh, a light frost crystallizing the shaggy grass in the lawn as Cheyenne made her way outside, circling around the house and moving into the edge of the woods surrounding it.

Once her round was complete, the blonde began to make her way back in the direction of the house, humming softly to herself as she walked.

A twig snapping some thirty feet from her current position had her haulting in her tracks and slowly turning in the direction of the noise, compound bow at the ready.

With a barely contained gasp, Cheyenne dropped to her haunches behind a dead berry bush, watching in horror as twenty or more walkers shambled out of the mist that blanketed the woods, staggering in the same direction as she was headed.

They were headed straight for the house. Toward Beth. Toward Daryl.

"Shit!" Cheyenne cursed under her breath, glancing around at her surroundings, trying to stay calm, form a plan, get back to the house unnoticed.

Slowly, she crept forward, slipping past trees and bushes on light, almost cat-like feet, silent as a predator stalking it's prey.

When the yard came into view, Cheyenne mentally measured the distance, realizing that there was no way of crossing the yard without being spotted by the dead closing in on their little haven.

With a deep breath and a sudden rush of adrenaline rushing through her veins, the blonde broke into a run, feet pounding against the frostbitten grass. The snarls and hisses of over twenty walkers and her own heartbeat drumming in her ears melted into one macabre cacophony of confusion as the dead followed her out of the woods and into the front yard, straight toward the house and her friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also apologize for the short chapter :(


	8. Chapter 8

Bursting through the front door, Cheyenne slammed it roughly, calling a breathless warning to Beth.

"We gotta go!"

"What?!" Beth cried, jumping up from her seat on the floor inside the living room doorway, the book she had been reading tumbling to the floor with a dull thud and a rustle of pages. "What happened?!"

"There's a herd out there! We gotta _go_!" Cheyenne shoved the younger blonde toward the kitchen. "Get the backpack! I got him!"

Racing into the living room, she found Daryl sitting up on the couch, his jacket and vest already on as he staggered to his feet, a dazed look crossing his face as he swayed slightly.

"C'mon," she cried, wrapping an arm around his waist before he could collapse. "Lean on me. We gotta move."

He nodded weakly, leaning heavily against her as she grabbed his crossbow up from the floor, shouldering the weapon and giving Beth her own bow.

The dead crowding against the front door moaned loudly as their cold, rotting palms thumped against the wood and glass seperating them from the threesome heading for the back door. They were agitated, clawing at the door as the movement from inside held their attention.

"Can he even walk?" Beth asked frantically, glancing over her shoulder at the sound of the front door creaking and growning under the pressure of the bodies pushing against it.

Cheyenne frowned, checking the .38 Daryl had found a few days before finding the house without sparing Beth a glance.

"I'm up ain't I?" Daryl grumbled irritably, his determination clear. Even so, all three of them knew deep down that he wasn't going to make it very far before collapsing.

"We'll manage," Cheyenne gritted out confidently, adjusting her grip on the hunter. "We have before, and we will this time."

Beth opened the back door a moment later, knife drawn, cautiously peering out before nodding that the cost was clear.

"Be quiet, head straight for the woods and don't stop unless you absolutely have to," Cheyenne warned, following the teen outside, gripping Daryl a bit tighter as he stumbled over the uneven ground.

"On your left!" Daryl warned softly as a walker staggered toward them. Cheyenne quickly drew her knife, stabbing it and shoving it away as it fell.

"Hurry!" Beth cried softly, motioning behind them as two more geeks shambled around the house and headed their way.

The trio slipped into the woods unnoticed by the rest of the herd, dispatching the two following when the time was right.

* * *

"I need t'...I gotta sit..." Daryl murmured breathlessly after twenty minutes of walking, leaning heavily against Cheyenne.

Slowly, the blonde eased him to the ground, helping him prop himself up against a tree. Once he was as comfortable as he could get, she turned her attention to Beth.

"Keep your eyes opened," she warned softly, giving Daryl a quick once-over before motioning toward a road that was just visible through the trees. "I'm gonna walk up that road a little ways, see if there's a house or somethin' nearby."

"Okay," Beth nodded, moving a little closer to Daryl. "Be careful."

"Always am," Cheyenne said, handing Beth the .38 with the faintest of smiles. "I'll be back in 10 minutes."

* * *

Cheyenne returned in 10 minutes as she had promised, looking pleased with herself as she broke through the trees seperating the road from her friends.

"There's a barn just off the road," she relayed as she and Beth got Daryl back on his feet. "We can stay there for the night. It looks pretty secure, and there's a hayloft full of hay t' sleep in."

"Good," Daryl sighed tiredly, leaning against her as she handed Beth her bow once again, his crossbow still strapped securely to her back. "I feel like shit."

"Yeah, you look like it, too," Cheyenne teased, chuckling when he kicked lightly at her ankle.

Beth giggled along with them, taking point and helping keep watch for any threats.

The trio made it to the barn safely, barricading themselves inside just as the sun began to fade. Once the doors were securely closed and locked up tight, Beth and Cheyenne helped Daryl up to the hayloft, getting the hunter comfortable for the night.

While Cheyenne made one last perimeter check, Beth made a bed for herself near Daryl, smiling when Cheyenne took up the pile of hay on his other side upon her return.

"Ain't this place big enough for you two t' find your own beds?" Daryl slurred sleepily, trying to sound gruff even as he snuggled in a little closer to both girls.

"Naw, too roomy," Cheyenne smirked triumphantly as a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth.

"Besides," Beth piped up teasingly. "We gotta stay warm somehow. 'specially you, you ungrateful ass!"

Daryl hummed in response, nodding his head slightly, eyes remaining shut as a smirk formed on his lips.

"You gotta get better," Beth persisted, poking him in the ribs and making him squirm a bit. "You promised me some crossbow lessons!"

Cheyenne rolled her eyes and smiled, unable to miss the little snort from Daryl.

"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya' Greene. Now shut up an' let a man get some sleep!"

The threesome soon fell asleep, the smell of hay lulling them to sleep. Daryl would be well again soon, and they could keep traveling. And maybe, just maybe, they could find their family and start over. They had made it out, they had survived so far. Why couldn't the others have escaped as well?

All they had to do was have a little faith...even if Daryl still insisted that it hadn't done shit for them.

They would make it. One way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finishing this story and writing about Beth really made me miss her again :(
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed, and I'm sorry for the long wait between updates.  
> Peace out!! -EITD


End file.
